Message-ID: <19873eli$9902110941@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: "Joanna De Brito" Subject: {Joanna} The Code Of Tawr ( 4/10 MF caution) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-type: text/plain Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <19990211113044.20677.qmail@hotmail.com> Standard Disclaimer: Over 18s Only. This is part four of a serialized story. If you haven't yet read the earlier parts, I strongly suggest you go back and start there. As this is a serial I don't want to give too much away in the story codes. What I am prepared to say is that the story will be (almost) entirely MF, and that there will be n/c, rape, and what are to me, macabre themes developed. Do not read if such things squick you. However, no pedo; no incest. On the other hand, if this kind of stuff turns you on: enjoy! Joanna The Code Of Tawr by Joanna (joanna_de_brito@hotmail.com)Copyright 1999 All rights reserved February 1999 Perhaps you may yet find me: I am so close; just the other side of the Portal... Part Four Last night I dreamt a terrible dream. It was the dream of madness, of suspicion and envy. It was so vivid, so intense that I could not shake it from my head. All through today it has been with me, upon my shoulder, casting a heavy cloud over every thought. In this dream I was in my bedroom. Paul was sitting in bed, our bed, and from what I could see of him, he was naked. I was about to speak, to ask him why he was there. It was, for certain, now my bed until I chose to invite him back. But he was laughing at me; he was rocking from side to side in noisy hilarity, he was pointing and ridiculing. "Why are you laughing? Please don't do that! Don't laugh!" I pleaded, feeling so insecure. "But you are so funny," he smirked. "Take a look at yourself." I looked down at my body, and I suddenly realized that I was naked, totally naked. How had that happened? What spirit had stolen my clothes? I was horror-stricken. But what tipped me over the edge was that my body had transformed. I didn't recognize what I saw, for my lovely breasts were no longer the ripe breasts of a grown woman, they were the flat breasts of a child. "What has happened?" I screamed. "What have you done to me?" "Nothing," he mocked. "What has been done, you have done to yourself." I understood his words, but they held no meaning. Before I could ask him to explain, my mind was diverted. "Do you like what I'm wearing?" Someone had spoken from the bottom of my bed. I looked and saw Rebecca standing there, looking so glamorous and she was talking to Paul. Oh, she must think me ridiculous, my breasts are so small, I cried in my dream. "Do you like what I am wearing," she had asked running her hands over her short fitted dress. She showed no sign of shame or embarrassment as her hands caressed her bust and then her crotch. "Mmm, that's sexy. Look at her. Don't you think she's sexy?" Paul asked, pulling back the cover and showing me his erection. Rebecca accepted his compliment, turning and bending, shaking her bum. "It would really turn me on if you were to come over here," she cooed. "And take off this dress. It would be so exciting if you did." I cried in anguish, but no sound passed my lips. Somewhere in my throat the sound had got stuck and no one cared. Again she spoke to Paul. "Would you take off my dress if I asked very nicely?" she gurgled, pressing together her breasts and making her cleavage grow. He didn't wait for her to ask nicely, he went to her, his cock waving obscenely in her worship. She lifted her arms and held them out wide, her body becoming the shape of a cross. She waited playfully for him to act. "Naughty", she gently reproached when he did, grasping his arms. "You must tell me first what you would like to do." He swallowed heavily. "I would like to undo your dress," he whispered. "But I have nothing beneath," she purred, letting go of his hands. "Are you a rogue, sir?" "I am a rogue," he confirmed, all fingers and thumbs as he began to undo. The buttons parted to expose the barest of breast. I wanted to strike him, needed to hit him, to let loose my hatred. How could I watch as he groped this strumpet? But cuffs appeared to bind my arms; I was chained to the wall. I struggled and strained, but could not get free. My exertions were ignored, not even noticed. For him I had ceased to exist. He remained so focused on undoing her dress. "I am bad, aren't I?" Rebecca asked suggestively; he had got to where her panties should rightly have been. "Do you think me very indecent?" "Yes," I wanted to scream, but Paul's reply was the merest of mumbles. He was mesmerized, staring at her snatch as he had never once stared at mine. "What can she have that I don't," I thought. Rebecca stared me through, as Paul slipped her dress from her shoulders. She wriggled free of it in the manner of a practiced stripper. And somehow she knew my thoughts and her rebuke was stern. "Look at my breasts," she said. "How large; how firm. How can you hope to keep a man happy with tits such as yours." She rubbed spittle on her nipples, making them hard. Surely I could hide my breasts, they were such a disgrace, but my arms were chained and I could not conceal them. She looked at them with such contempt that my misery was complete. I watched her kneel on the bed, my bed, presenting her bum to Paul. He didn't hesitate; he entered her from behind, she gasped as he pushed himself inside. "That's so nice," he said to her. "You're so tight, so much firmer than Joanna." Rebecca gave me that look, that supercilious snub. "Why would he want you," she said. "Your body is flabby and repulsive. I am the one he wants, the one he fucks." I couldn't move: the chains held me fast. Even as I closed my eyes, I saw them, rollicking in front of me on my bed. They moaned and sighed, Rebecca's tits hanging from her chest, shimmying and shaking, reminding me of what I hadn't got. "I'm coming, I'm coming," Paul cried. "I can feel you," she sighed. "I can feel your spunk spurting inside." His orgasm went on and on. It just would not end. On and on his face remained fixed at that instant of ultimate nirvana. "You see," Rebecca was saying. "You see how it is with a real woman. He wants me. Look how he craves my body. He wants me, not you. This is how it should be." Paul's climax just kept coming and coming. "This is how it should be," her voice was repeating. "With a real woman; with a real woman." "This is how it should be." I had woken with a start. My body was covered in a thin coating of perspiration that felt cold and sticky. My breathing was heavy and labored. Suddenly without warning I was weeping for real. I began and I could not stop. Eventually, finally, thankfully, those tears lulled me to sleep. The next morning, bleary eyed from much crying I got up and went downstairs. In the kitchen I saw something on the table that I did not recognize. Paul had already gone to work, but he had left there a wonderful bouquet of flowers. There was a card attached. I sniffed loudly as I opened it for my nose was wet. "Happy Valentine, Dearest Joanna" it read. "To the wonderful girl who lights up my day." **************************************************** The Code Of Tawr Chapter Two The Journey Home She could not go back. It was the one thing of which she was absolutely certain. Whatever else her future held, there was no way she could return to Tawr and to Lahf Tawreos. She sat, naked upon the ground, numbed, violated, bleeding, dirty. Most of all she was dirty. Her face was stained with dirt mingled with fresh tears. Her body was sticky with a mixture of dust, sweat and bodily fluids. Her hair was matted and full of grit. But the dirt felt white and pure compared with the stink of her sin. Around her the men were beginning to recover. A couple of them watched, a little furtively, more than a little voyeuristically, their lust diminished by their recent activity but with a curiosity still very much alive. In her trauma, she huddled up into a ball trying to conceal her nakedness. Where now? Her friends would be her friends no longer. They would condemn, wag fingers. She could not go back. That life was finished, she told herself. She could never go back. They would burn her as a fornicatrix. She clung to that central thought; nothing else mattered. In her shock and depression every other thought seemed to have been dulled, to be insignificant. It was as though she had been anaesthetized. Values that seemed so important only hours before now seemed irrelevant, unimportant. The ropes still bound her wrists, though they hung free, the other ends having been cut. "Here are your clothes, Miss Joanna." A naked man had approached and was holding out that bag containing her things. His limp cock faced her. She looked higher and saw that it was Simmons, his expression one of boyish concern and sympathy. "Thank you," she mumbled, grabbing hold of the bag; clutching it tightly. "Is there somewhere I can wash?" she asked. "I must wash off this dirt." "I don't think there's anywhere here," he said so very apologetically. "But when we get to the valley, you'll be able to wash in the river. I could do with a good soak myself." She began to weep gently. "Don't cry," Miss Joanna" he implored, so wanting to be helpful, yet not beginning to know how. "I'm sorry. I didn't know he was going to do this. I did my best, but I have to listen to what he says. He's my Captain. You do see that, don't you?" The sobs continued to rack her tightly crouched frame. Simmons tried again. "As my Captain he can make things very nasty for me." "Whereas now things are very nasty for me," she retorted bitterly through her distress. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "I didn't mean..." "Just shut it!" she cried, feeling a need to lash out at something. "Your good intentions didn't amount to much did they? Somehow they didn't hold you from rape. Don't forget that! You did to me what every one of them did! So don't bull shit me with your mock regrets and hypocrisy. You're every bit as bad as they are. So don't expect me to salve your conscience for you." Her voice cracked at the last and she dropped her head, vainly trying to conceal her wretchedness. "Just...just, get lost." Simmons stoically endured the outburst, only the slightest inflections of his countenance suggesting that the words had breached his defenses. "I will get back to my duties," he murmured, and then he left. By now everyone was getting dressed and it seemed that a move was soon to be made. She overheard someone saying that they were going to walk off the mountain, then try to pick up some horses in the valley. They should be back in Lahf Tawreos by tomorrow evening, the voice reckoned. She slipped behind a rock to give herself some privacy to dress. Still crying quietly, tears blurring her vision and mucus hanging from the end of her nose, she quickly pulled the clothes out of the bag and slipped them back on. Doing so highlighted the physical state she was in. The back of her body, her thighs, buttocks and back were scratched and grazed from being rubbed upon the bare earth. The clothes irritated her abrasions. Her arms, sore from being held awkwardly by the ropes, protested as she reached to fasten her bra and as she bent to place her feet into her jeans. She felt unclean. It wasn't right to be dressing such a dirty body. She yearned to be able to bathe. How soothing that would be! They would soon be looking for her. Although she hadn't heard much noise or commotion on the other side of the rocky outcrop, by now they must almost be ready. If she was going to get away, now was the time, whilst they were still preoccupied. She surreptitiously moved along to the other end of the outcrop. From here she hoped to slip by the area where they were congregated, and from there to the far side of the mountain. "Going somewhere?" someone called from above her. She looked up. A guard was positioned there. She recognized him from Lahf Tawreos. It was Mark Andrews. She remembered him as a boy of ten or eleven. He had developed this enormous crush on her which had been so sweet. He would save little gifts for her visits and walk her to the town gate when she left. It would seem his interests had moved on. He had been watching her: watching her dress; watching her attempt to escape. "You're not leaving us, are you?" he added. Her answer came from instinct. She did not think it. "I'm so dirty. I need to find somewhere to wash." "You'll be able to wash when we wash," this young man said, descending from his vantage point upon the outcrop. "There'll be plenty of time for that. Come on. Everyone's waiting." Bradley was issuing orders as they rounded the rock and were back in the clearing. He had been speaking of her, Joanna discerned that much. However, he lowered his voice as she arrived and she couldn't make sense of what he had said. "OK," he said more loudly. "If everyone's ready, let's move." As several Guards began to leave, Bradley gestured to Joanna that she should go next. When she did so, Bradley followed immediately after with the rest of the soldiers forming a rearguard. They trekked back down the long pass Joanna had so lately climbed, stringing out into a long line. How long ago that ascent now seemed. So much had changed. She took her water bottle from her provision bag and took a long swig. The air had cooled, but she still felt hot and sticky and anguished and guilty. "Where are we going?" Joanna asked nervously over her shoulder. "I don't want to go back. Can't you let me go? I'm no use to you now." Bradley laughed gleefully. "No, we can't let you go. The best bit is still to come. You have to face your masters back in Lahf Tawreos, and, that, as I'm sure you knew already, is our destination." She just couldn't comprehend what was driving him. "And you're really going to take me there just so that you can see me burned?" "Don't blame me," he protested. "I'm just the humble policeman doing his duty. It's others who made the rules and others yet who volunteered to keep them." "You aren't just doing this as a duty," she disputed. "You've made it your duty. Come on, damn you! The least I deserve is to know why." "Deserve? You deserve nothing. You betrayed Tawr. How conveniently you forget." "Yes, I betrayed Tawr. But that's between him and me. Why are you so determined to burn me for it?" He grimaced wryly. "I won't burn you. It's the code that will do that. How many times do I have to say? It's the code that condemns you. Tawr, your friend, whom you served so faithfully all these years: he condemns you. I follow orders." "Which you enjoy doing?" she persisted. "I enjoy what I am currently doing," he agreed. "I'm also sure that I'll enjoy seeing how you face all that awaits you in Lahf Tawreos. Will that do? Have I said what you expected to hear?" She was shocked. Could he really be that inhuman? Could he really mean what he had just said? "There is evil in you!" she said accusingly. "How can you say that you will enjoy someone else's destruction? Why didn't I see this before?" "Perhaps you weren't looking?" he suggested. "I don't recall you ever took me very seriously. Perhaps your mind was so focused on the code and the endless petty rules that you never really looked at anything inside me, evil or otherwise." She blinked back her tears. "Perhaps on that we can agree," she said. By the time they reached the valley, the sun was low on the horizon. Its softer rays painted a warm welcoming landscape in which a small river gurgled as it rushed along the valley floor. On either side weeping trees swayed gently in the early evening breeze and long stalks of coarse grass - littered with the bright red splash of poppies - carpeted the space between. They waded through the grass to the riverbank leaving a trail of crushed reeds in their wake. As they got close it was obvious that the water below them was several feet deep and fast flowing, so they continued on a little way to where the river widened and where the water was more shallow and still. "You wanted to bathe," Bradley said to Joanna. "We'll stop here awhile." He strolled to where the ground gently sloped down to the water's edge and dropped his provision bag to the ground, then sat near to it upon the dry grass. The other soldiers took his lead and sat forming lazy groups. "Please stay within sight," Bradley ordered. "I wouldn't want you to get lost, would I?" She looked around. "But I wanted to bathe, properly," she protested. "And?" came the reply. "I'm La cepern. I can't do that with everyone watching," she said irritably. "You can't? When we were all so friendly earlier?" She was tired of the continual games. "Fine," she said resolutely. "If you're going to insist on being awkward, it's not a problem." She untied her boots and pulled them from her feet. She then moved unsteadily towards the river. "I do hope you're not planning in trying to bathe in your clothes," Bradley called across to her with a grin. "You can't bathe properly like that." Joanna ignored him totally and Paul continued to grin. He watched and relaxed as she entered the water and paddled to where it was a little deeper. She then crouched and rubbed herself through her clothes. She tried her best but she couldn't get clean. The water was cold and soon she was shivering within it. She plunged her head beneath the surface, pulling and rubbing her hair, scouring her face with her hands. "It doesn't work," Paul called out to her from the bank. "Keeping your clothes to spoil our fun. Your blouse has become wet and transparent; it makes you real sexy. I can't wait till you come out." Ignoring him, she moved away from the meander, to where the current was faster. She had to get away; she had to get clean. She checked that she had walked far enough that they could no longer see her and then began again to scrub. Beneath the water she unfastened her jeans so that the water could make better contact. Her pussy lips were puffy and sore from their assault, but she was merciless as she scrubbed. She pulled her jeans a little lower, her knickers too. Her hands were beginning to chafe; her lower lips were already abraded; yet despite the copious quantity of water about her she could not remove the stench of their sweat or the dirt of their embrace. These clung fast to her like the crudest of oil upon a stricken seabird. She was numbed with cold. The water was icy, flowing as it did straight off the mountain. Joanna's fingers were white and her skin wrinkled from the water. Yet still she moved deeper, where the water would be more cleansing. She had unfastened the buttons of her blouse. Her breasts: her poor mauled tormented breasts. How would they she ever remove the excrement that plastered them? She burnished and sanded without effect. She was crying, her body shaking with cold and grief. Not gently as before, but an impersonal uncontrolled wailing. Drifting, she was drifting in the water. It was around her, about her. It felt so good. It took away the pain. Drifting away. Bubbles; she saw bubbles in the water, air that she had breathed. There was no pain. The water would make her clean. Drifting. There was someone behind her. She was not aware. He lifted her with strong arms from the torrent she had coveted. He carried her from the water, her blouse was open, her bra pulled loose from her breasts. These were white from the cold; her pale brown nipples turgid yet wrinkled at their base by the water. Her heavy, clinging knickers and jeans were gathered at her knees, restraining her legs as he carried her away from the river and deposited her upon the ground alongside. Others came running up as he gazed down upon her nakedness, that nakedness he had sought so long and had possessed so recently. "Bradley, what happened?" someone was saying. "She was in the water, then I didn't see her anymore," someone else added. "Is she breathing?" another voice asked. "My God. Those tits! Her cunt!" a fourth exclaimed. Paul put his ear to her naked breast. He wasn't sure what he could hear. He pinched closed her nose and breathed into her mouth. He did it again. The others fell silent, mesmerized by the drama and the sight of bare pussy. Paul pumped her chest to keep her blood circulating then filled her lungs once more with his stale air. She spluttered and spit and gasped. Bradley lifted her to a sitting position and held her as she coughed and wheezed and shivered. "Help me get these things off of her," he said, suddenly. "She's frozen." While someone ran and grabbed a blanket from his provision bag, the others enthusiastically helped to pull off her sodden clothes, Paul continued to hold her naked body to himself. He rubbed: gently where she was cut and bruised, more roughly where she was not, trying to insert warmth into her. The blanket arrived. He wrapped it round her then held her close again. One of the soldiers - who was it? - Brewer, said: "You know what the Nazis did during the second world war. They conducted experiments freezing people then seeing how best to warm them up. You know what they found? The best way to warm a cold person up is to screw them. Better than anything but a hot drink and we haven't got one of them. What do you think? Should we try it?" Bradley snapped. "For God's sake, Brewer. Shut up. If your mind's still on screwing I'll sort that out for you. For the moment can you just cut me some slack." "There's a priory just up ahead. We could take her there for the night," Andrews suggested. Bradley nodded. "Good idea. She'll have to walk like this, though, like it or not. Her clothes are wet through." They took the blanket from off her and replaced it with another dryer blanket. Soon, Joanna became more focused. "What happened?" she murmured, still breathing heavily. Bradley replied angrily. "I don't know," he snapped. "What did happen? I know that you nearly killed yourself as the result. If you try anything that stupid again, I'll take great pleasure in inflicting great damage upon you. Do you understand?" "I didn't know you cared," she observed dryly. "Of course I care" he retorted with even more anger. "Do you think I've gone to all this trouble to see you escape justice?" * Knee Priory was a small convalescent commune. There were a few permanent residents, older members of the Menials, as they were known, who looked after the house and its grounds. The purpose of the home, though, was as to provide spiritual sanctuary to anybody from any of the Chosen Orders in need of spiritual assistance. Joanna herself had almost been sent here when, as a young adolescent, she had begun to balk at a future laid out for her by others. At the time, however, she had been fortunate in having a wise tutor who had seen it all many times before and knew how to reform her. Stumbling upon Knee Priory at an end of such a sorrowful day was, Joanna felt, the answer to her prayer. They knocked at the door and an elderly priestess opened it. She looked at Joanna, and, whatever she thought privately, said nothing about her state: her hair still wet and clinging to her head; her shivering flesh wrapped in blankets; her clothing, all her clothing, clearly visible in Bradley's hand. She was whisked inside and placed before a warm fire. There she was given a hot drink and time to unwind. Next she was shown to the bathroom where a hot bath had been run, clean clothing and a towel provided. And there was soap, plenty of soap. She could sit and scrub and wash and soak. Yet still the indelible foul odor of their fluids clung to her. Later, she sat quietly in the corner of a large dimly lit living area. A small fire crackled in the grate, for, although it was high summer the night sky was clear and the temperature had plummeted. Burning candles gave the room a comforting warm hue and flickered in the drafts. On the other side of the room, two Guards were talking quietly. They had remained close by all evening, keeping a discreet watch, Joanna guessed. For they were not relaxed. Their body language was awkward; it had a discipline, an awareness of what was about them that told her they were on duty. They were to ensure that she did not magically disappear. The Chief Priestess of the Priory entered and sat beside Joanna. At first she had remarked about the river and how lucky Joanna had been that the Guards were so close. Then her questions had become more incisive. "I couldn't help noticing," she said. "You see, the blanket you had around you was rather revealing. I couldn't help noticing that you have a number of bruises. Did that happen in the river?" Joanna could not answer. She could not lie to the Chief Priestess, yet she could not tell the truth either. "There were also several cuts and grazes. I noticed them on your legs. Was that also the river?" Joanna looked to her suddenly. "Chief Priestess," she said. "Do you think there is somewhere private where we can talk?" "Of course, child," the older lady said, seemingly unsurprised by the request. She found them a quiet room and sat Joanna down. "Now what's this about?" the Chief Priestess asked. "Tell me what's wrong." So she told her: told her everything including her own folly in taking the message as a favor for her father. "And now you think that because of this you will die," the Chief Priestess asked her when she had finished. "I know it," Joanna said, beginning to weep again. "They have only that one thing on their mind. They are determined to see me burn. He said he is looking forward to it. You have no idea what this is doing to me." "I can imagine." "You've got to get me out of here. Even now they're out there somewhere. They follow me everywhere. If I can get out without them knowing I could build a new life somewhere. But I need your help. I can't get away without your assistance. Please, I just can't go back to Lahf Tawreos now!" "And if you leave, don't you think they will follow if they are as determined as you say? Where will you go that they will not be able to track you and bring you back? And haven't you forgotten something else that's extremely important? If you left, how would you face Tawr? What about your oath? Your place in the Order of Deity? Can you so easily forget all that you are?" Joanna was silent for several moments. A clock ticked loudly in the background counting away the seconds. "So you think I should go back to be burned alive?" Joanna sobbed fearfully. "Certainly I think you should go back. I also think you will go back. And as soon as you have cleared your confused thoughts I think you will see why you must go back. Tawr is first and foremost in the life of any one of us within the orders. But you are La cepern, the Order of Deity. A La cepern running from Tawr is a contradiction, is it not?" "Yes," agreed Joanna wiping the tears. "It is. But I don't mean to run from Tawr: only from such a terrible judgement. Am I very wicked?" "Wicked? No. Not unnaturally you may be a little scared. But I think you will find that you have no need of fear. In an impure world, such things must happen." "How can that be?" Joanna protested. "The code is explicit. I was raped. For a La cepern, sex is a capital offense!" "Of course that is true," the Chief Priestess said. "That is what the letter of the law states, but what is its spirit?" "Spirit? What do you mean?" "You're correct that according to the letter of the code there is no latitude; the elders of Tawr have no option but to sentence you to burn before the Gates of Tawr. But every law has a spirit as well as a letter. What did the creators of the law intend? Sadly, these things do happen, more often than any of us would care to think. Of course, most of us never hear about all the terrible things that occur, we have no reason to hear. You have told me that you did not desire sex with these men; they forced themselves upon you. As long as the elders discern sincere regret, there will be no punishment. In fact, I suggest their anger will be towards those that violated what belongs to Tawr." "You think so?" "I know it to be so. As Chief Priestess I have been around a long time and I have seen these things before. More often than I would like. And did you ever hear of a La cepern being burned, or lashed or maltreated in any way before the Portal?" "No. I'm sure that it never has happened." "Exactly." "But I thought that was because every La cepern was...you know." "Pure? I wish that were the case. Many a girl has received her gown when by rights she had no right. That is the wisdom of Tawr and his elders." The Chief Priestess paused, before beginning again more hesitantly. "The soldiers. Do you, will you be safe when you leave with them in the morning." Joanna shook her head. "I don't know. They have raped me once. Having crossed that psychological barrier, any of them might do so again. I can't trust them, I know. As we descended from the mountain several of them ignored me. I think seeing me makes them feel guilty. But that will pass, and when it does I think they'll become aggressive. On the other hand, Paul, for much of the time was perfectly normal. He acts as if nothing untoward ever happened. I don't know what he is thinking or planning. However, at the river he showed great restraint, I owe him my life. You see, I clutch at straws." "You have no need to fear," the priestess repeated with a smile. "I am not without influence myself. I am able to make enough of a threat that these spring chickens will not threaten you again." "The guards, of course. But Bradley? The usual threats do not always work." "Then I won't use the usual threats. Do not worry," the Chief Priestess assured her. "You will be safe." "Thank you," Joanna said. But there was a lack of conviction, a distance to her manner that the priestess noticed at the last. "You will be safe." Joanna smiled wanly. "Yes, Chief Priestess." "There is something else," the other said perceptively. "Tell me what else is bothering you?" Joanna blinked back a tear, looking away. "Tell me. You know you have nothing to fear from me." "I am concerned," Joanna said finally. She stopped. "I am concerned," she began again. "That, well, What if there's a baby?" "There won't be a baby," the priestess said gently. "You can't know that," Joanna said with agitation. "How can you know that?" "I know it," said the priestess simply. Then, "You are La cepern. Child, as La cepern you cannot have children. I don't just mean you're not permitted children. Of course, you know that. I mean you cannot bear children. It will have been handled when you were a baby." Joanna was appalled. "Why did no one ever tell me?" "They told you many times. Your life is dedicated to Tawr. No man. No family. Why should this be a surprise to you?" "Yes, I knew what you tell me. But I didn't know that... that they had mutilated me! Why would they do that? Don't they trust us?" "It is not a matter of trust. Look what happened to you today? Did that involve a breech of trust?" "No," Joanna conceded. "It's just a sensible precaution to prevent embarrassment to Tawr." "You are sure?" "Relax. You will come to no grief, child. Remember that all the elders are searching for is sorrow and regret. "Thank you, Chief Priestess" As she left she almost permitted herself to smile, thus had her spirits soared. Feet away from the door were the two young soldiers detailed to watch over her. They were feigning an interest in a hefty tome one had lifted from a library shelf. "You don't have to worry about me now," she thought. "Worry about yourselves. I'm going home." By the following morning the guards had been out into the neighborhood and had managed to acquire horses on which they might complete the journey. As Joanna greeted the filly she was to ride her spirits remained buoyant, and this did not go unnoticed by Paul. "Good morning," he said. "There is obviously no need to ask whether you slept well." "I slept very well, thank you," she replied. "Do you have a problem with that." "Not at all." "Then let's go home. I'm ready if you are." **************************************************** "Did you like my valentine present?" Paul looked at me blankly. "I noticed that you read the beginning of Chapter Two." I said casually. He had the grace to blush. "How did you know?" "You made a mistake. There is a history list on the documents tab of the Windows start menu. It gave you away. As soon as I saw, I knew you had been on the computer looking for files." "OK, so I admit it. But you also made a mistake," he replied. "Oh?" "Joanna's provision bag or whatever it was. It turned up in chapter two, but it didn't exist in chapter one. There was no mention of the soldiers searching it." "Maybe not," I mused. "Maybe I just didn't feel it important. Weren't you more concerned about getting me out of my clothes." "And all those lusty men seeing you," he agreed. "Paul!" I protested, but I didn't mean it. I covered over by adding. "So you like the idea of men lusting for me?" He was looking at me hungrily. "I like the idea of you having to show yourself. Can you put that into the next part?" "I haven't said there will be a next part." "I bought you some flowers." "For which I thanked you.." "You could thank me more fully." "That's bribery." He nodded. "That's bribery." The Code Of Tawr End Of Part Four Part Five ....Coming Soon! -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----